


vignettes

by corinnana



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, Drabble Collection, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Headcanon, M/M, One Shot Collection, Slice of Life, Vignette, Volleyball Dorks in Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 10,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24584896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corinnana/pseuds/corinnana
Summary: Unconnected moments of the lives of Iwaizumi and Oikawa, from their childhood to adolescence to beyond.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 66
Kudos: 72





	1. one more toss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa has a habit of asking for one more toss.

“One more toss,” Oikawa grinds through his teeth. He brings his shirt up to wipe the sweat beading at his forehead, and Iwaizumi tries not to stare.

“We have school tomorrow.” Iwaizumi tries to protest, but Oikawa makes a gesture like he’s waving off Iwaizumi’s concerns. 

“Are you ready? I have to get this new toss right before the next practice match.” Oikawa’s jaw is set. The look in his eyes tells Iwaizumi that arguing right now is useless.

“Go for it.” His eyes follow the movement of Oikawa’s limbs as Oikawa spins the ball once with his pale hands and sets it towards Iwaizumi in a flawless arc.

Iwaizumi jumps instinctively and spikes the ball, a fluid motion that he’s perfected through the countless hours after volleyball practice. Even after the rest of Seijoh’s team leaves, they’re always staying behind at Oikawa’s request to do one more toss. One more toss eventually turns into two more tosses, which spirals until it’s nearly ten PM on a Thursday and they’re still in the volleyball court.

The ball slams into the ground with a thud, then bounces off and hits the wall. Iwaizumi looks down at his hand and clenches his fist.

“How’d that feel, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks, ducking under the net to retrieve the ball. “I tried to change up the angle a little bit.”

“Felt good,” Iwaizumi says, stretching out his fingers. He never gets tired of the sting of a solid spike on his palm.

“Any different than normal?”

“I think I still prefer the normal one right now. Maybe it’s a familiarity thing. This one feels like the timing is a little bit too fast for a game.”

Oikawa’s nose scrunches up. “So we need some more practice.”

Iwaizumi scoffs. “We practice enough. _You_ practice enough.”

“Not enough to get this toss right.”

“I liked the old toss, though. What’s wrong with the normal one again?”

Oikawa spins the ball between his two hands absentmindedly. “I just wanted to try something new.”

“In our third year? Isn’t it -” Iwaizumi cuts himself off, the words _too late_ on his lips. He clears his throat. “Shouldn’t we just stick to what we know?”

Oikawa tosses the ball up into the air with one hand, then catches it and repeats the action. It’s a habit he’s had since their days at Kitagawa Daiichi, when his growth spurt hit and he could hold a volleyball with just one hand. 

“No,” Oikawa replies. “It’s because we’re in our third year that I’m trying something new.”

Iwaizumi must look doubtful, because Oikawa’s expression shifts when he looks at him. 

“Just trust me, Iwa-chan. Again?”

Iwaizumi nods. He always does. "One more toss."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first drabble done! i feel like these drabbles are going to be my way of avoiding the commitment longer fics for a while. i just feel like writing, even if it's only a few hundred words.
> 
> apparently drabbles are supposed to be exactly 100 words. i'm a little far off on this one and not at all inclined to revise at the moment, so i'll conveniently ignore that fact.
> 
> thank you for reading! kudos/comments mean everything to me.


	2. valentine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa has thirty-four valentines by the start of volleyball practice. Iwaizumi has one by the end.

By the time they’re supposed to be at volleyball practice that day, Oikawa is carrying armfuls of Valentine’s Day candy.

“You can’t possibly eat all of that, can you?” Iwaizumi eyes the heap stacked precariously in the corner of the changing room. “You’re going to be sick just like last year.”

“I can help eat it,” Hanamaki laughs, tugging his white and turquoise jersey on.

Oikawa shrugs out of his white uniform blazer. “But I’d feel bad if I gave it away.”

“Wow, really trying to rub it in here, huh? I think the rest of us got, like, three candies. Combined.” Hanamaki looks around the room.

“Nah,” Matsukawa says. “One of mine was actually supposed to be for Oikawa, but the girl who gave it to me was too shy to go to him directly.”

Hanamaki pats him on the shoulder. “Join the Zero-Valentine club, Matsukawa. We’re all single loners here.”

Oikawa’s looking at the stack of Valentine candy in the corner, something like fondness and surprise and something else on his face. Every year, Iwaizumi knows that Oikawa is surprised that he’s still this popular. Especially after turning down every confession he’s received.

Practice goes smoothly, except when Kindaichi is caught by the coach for complaining about practicing on a holiday and is forced to run laps afterwards. 

Iwaizumi and Oikawa are the last in the changing room as usual. Oikawa seems like he’s taking his time changing, but it’s really because he keeps on glancing distractedly at the corner.

“What are you thinking about, Trashykawa?” Iwaizumi says, sitting down on the bench in the room.

“Nothing, just about how popular I am.”

“Don’t give me that. What’s really on your mind?”

Oikawa leans over to tie his shoes, and his face is obscured. “I didn’t get a Valentine from the person I wanted to, that’s all.”

Iwaizumi blinks. “And who’s that?”

“You.”

Iwaizumi’s mouth falls open a little bit. His flicker from the valentines in the corner to Oikawa’s eyes. “I don’t have any chocolate for you, though.”

The tension in Oikawa’s shoulders eases. “That’s okay, Iwa-chan!” He points to a spot on his cheek and closes his eyes. “I’ll settle for a kiss. Deal?”

Iwaizumi stands up, leans toward Oikawa, and gives him a chaste kiss on the cheek. Oikawa’s eyes flutter open, but Iwaizumi’s already at the door.

“Hurry up, Valentine,” Iwaizumi calls, trying to hide the smile on his face.

“Coming, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, fixing the strap on his bag. He scoops up the candies and notes he’s received from others. “I like the sound of that.”

“Of what?”

“Valentine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's not exactly valentine's day right now, but i'm a romantic mood. not sure why.
> 
> thanks for reading! kudos/comments mean everything to me :D


	3. exam notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa openly wants to borrow Iwaizumi's notes, and Iwaizumi secretly wants to give them to him.

Oikawa is the kind of student who crams for exams, earns an excellent grade, then proceeds to forget everything he’s learned.

Iwaizumi, on the other hand, studies methodically and brings up things like “active recall” and “spaced repetition” when he’s reviewing. It takes dedication, but he gets things done and it works for him. His notes are detailed and organized, and Iwaizumi’s recently taken to color coding things in the way he knows Oikawa likes.

But when it’s the day before their first exam of finals week, the crammer and the reviewer find themselves in different positions.

“I know  _ nothing _ .” Oikawa rifles through a stack of practice questions. “How come we never learned this?”

“We did, you just weren’t paying attention.” Iwaizumi reminds him for the fifth time that day.

“Why do we even need to know what Fubini’s Theorem is? I’m positive we didn't cover this in class.”

Iwaizumi nods, eyes still on the paper in front of him. “Sure, Shittykawa. Keep on telling yourself that.”

Oikawa doesn’t respond for a moment, then he scoots his chair in the library closer to Iwaizumi’s. “Iwa-chan,” He sings. His voice is saccharine, the sweet tone he takes on when he wants something, and Iwaizumi makes a face. He’s already anticipating the next question. “Do you think you could maybe lend me your notes?”

“No.”

“Oh, come one,” He leans on his elbows, his hands cupping his face as he pouts. “If you don’t lend them to me, I’m certainly going to fail.”

“You’re not gonna fail. You always score higher than me in the end, anyway.”

“I’m going to fail,” Oikawa continues, ignoring Iwaizumi. “I’m going to fail, and then I’ll be removed from the team because I’m failing calculus, and then our team is going to lose every match we play, and we’re never going to beat Tobio-chan and that chibi-chan, and we’re not going to go to Nationals.” He fixes Iwaizumi with a stare too intense for the puppy face he’s trying to make.

“That’s just… not how it works.” Iwaizumi thinks for a moment. “Right. Slippery slope fallacy. Your argument is invalid.”

“Come  _ on _ . We’re studying for calc, not lit. Work with me for a second, Iwa-chan!”

“I’m not lending you my notes.”

“I’m telling the team that you don’t want me to lead Seijoh to victory.”

“Yep, I’m fine with that. Yahaba’s a pretty good setter.”

“Iwa-chan. You  _ wound _ me.”

“Good, you deserve it. And pay attention in class next time.”

Oikawa wails and complains for another half hour before Iwaizumi finally relents, handing over his class notes. When they check their grades a few days later, Oikawa outscores Iwaizumi by five points.

“You’re a leech,” Iwaizumi tells Oikawa. “And I’m never lending you my notes again.”

“Of course you won’t,” Oikawa replies, but he’s smiling too much to sound genuine. 

“I hope you fail next time.”

“But I’d get myself kicked off the team.” Oikawa gasps in mock horror.

“Even better.”

Oikawa laughs. “You know, just based on your notes - if I didn’t know you better, I’d be sure that you secretly make them neater just for me.”

Iwaizumi does, but he just shakes his head and punches Oikawa lightly in the arm. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because you’re secretly in love with me?”

He is, but he scoffs and turns away to hide the flush on his cheeks. “For the next exam, you’re on your own.” 

Oikawa laughs loudly next to him, and Iwaizumi knows that he’s going to make his notes just as neat for the next exam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why is my writing only prolific when it comes to drabbles???
> 
> i spotted my old multivariable calc notes and have a headcanon that oikawa never studies until it's the day before a test, and iwaizumi is the type to review over a long period of time. so we're left with this.
> 
> much love, and thank you for reading!!!! kudos/comments are like warm chocolate chip cookies.


	4. nicknames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First year at Seijoh - Oikawa can't stay away from the court, and Iwaizumi ponders nicknames.

“This is a bad idea,” Iwaizumi says at the same time Oikawa exclaims, “This is a great idea.”

They’re crouched behind a hedge outside of Seijoh’s gym, peering over the bushes to see if the janitor’s still cleaning the gym.

“Why the hell are we trying to break into our own gym?” Iwaizumi asks as the lights in the gym flicker off. The janitor steps outside and shuts the door behind him, turning to lock it as he leaves.

“Because the captain won’t give me his key, and I want to practice.” 

“We’re only in our first year, Shittykawa. Practicing for a few hours isn’t going to make you the starting setter, not with Ishida still on the team.”

Oikawa sniffs. “I can try.”

“It’s a school vacation for a reason,” Iwaizumi hisses under his breath. “We’re supposed to be resting. At home. Away from the volleyball court.”

“Breaks are for the weak,” Oikawa insists.

“No, breaks are for the intelligent.”

“Shut up, Iwa-chan. We’re here, so we’re doing this.”

“He’s coming!” They both duck, listening to the sounds of the janitor’s footsteps recede.

Oikawa rubs his hands together. “It’s time. Let’s go.”

“This isn’t a fucking heist to steal a diamond or something. We’re trespassing on school property. Which is completely against school rules.”

“Shush, I’m trying to feel like I’m the main character of a crime movie. You’re ruining it.” Oikawa swats Iwaizumi’s arm. “I knew I shouldn’t have brought you and your dumb logic.”

“You don’t even know how to pick a lock. Knowing you, you’d probably try to climb in through a window and break a bone.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t say it, but he’s glad that he’s the one Oikawa chose to bring along. He’d been worried, going into high school at Aobajohsai, that his friendship with Oikawa would fall apart. The two had been close on the team at Kitagawa Daiichi, but Iwaizumi knew things could change. Childhood friends didn’t always stick together. He was afraid that he’d no longer be Iwa-chan, just Iwaizumi. 

Oikawa stands up and creeps toward the gym, beckoning Iwaizumi. “You got the bobby pin, right?”

Iwaizumi holds it up, resigned. They make their way up the steps to the door, and Iwaizumi inserts the bent pin into the lock. After carefully moving it around, there’s an audible click. He smiles despite himself.

Oikawa beams at him. “Knew I could count on you, Iwa-chan.”

“Shut up, Shittykawa.” 

Oikawa opens the door and flicks the lightswitch on, still smiling. And Iwaizumi knows that the nickname means as much to Oikawa as “Iwa-chan” means to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another one! (said, of course, in dj khaled's voice)
> 
> lots of love, and thanks as always for reading! kudos/comments give me warm fuzzies.


	5. touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa's always touching Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi doesn't mind.

Iwaizumi isn’t sure when it starts, but Oikawa has a habit of touching him whenever he can.

Maybe it’s a remnant of their close childhood friendship, or maybe it’s something that Oikawa picked up to annoy him. No matter how it began, they’re still doing it years later in their third year of high school.

It’s not on purpose; it’s more like a casual and inadvertent contact between Oikawa’s fingers and Iwaizumi’s arm, or their feet on top of each other underneath a table, a ghost of skin on skin. Sometimes Oikawa notices it and withdraws wordlessly, but they usually remain in the same positions, barely touching but still connected.

Iwaizumi doesn’t mind. He almost revels in it, in a strange way that friends shouldn’t think about other friends. But Oikawa is a perpetually cold person who likes to stick his freezing fingers on unsuspecting people’s necks, so Iwaizumi knows it’s not just him Oikawa touches, it’s Hanamaki and Matsukawa and Kunimi and Yahaba. They always yelp in surprise and swat at Oikawa, who’s laughing and wiggling his fingers at them.

Unlike Oikawa, Iwaizumi runs warm all the time, like a fever that never ends. It’s been a long time since he minded Oikawa trying to creep up on him and stick those ice cold fingers on his neck.

So they go well together, Iwaizumi thinks to himself. Hot and cold touches.

He’s sitting on the floor in Oikawa’s bedroom, his back leaned against the bed. Oikawa is watching a recent volleyball game on the small television across the room. Their legs are pressed against each other, Iwaizumi’s right to Oikawa’s left. Neither of them move.

The quiet chatter of the commentators lulls Iwaizumi until he’s about to fall asleep, half aware of the light from the TV shining on him and half aware of the comfortable pressure of Oikawa’s leg against his. He starts when he hears Oikawa whisper next to him.

“Hey, Iwa-chan.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you do this with other people?”

“Hm?”

“This.” Oikawa presses his leg closer. He leans his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, and Iwaizumi can feel the metal frame of Oikawa’s glasses digging through his shirt. Oikawa’s ear is cold as he - can Iwaizumi call it nuzzling? - fits his head along the curve of the muscle from Iwaizumi’s shoulder to his neck.

Iwaizumi wraps his right arm around Oikawa’s waist and pulls him closer.

“Well, do you?” Oikawa is barely audible. 

“No,” Iwaizumi says, resting his head on top of Oikawa’s and closing his eyes. “It’s only with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of soft iwaoi to end the day.
> 
> thank you for reading!!! kudos/comments make my entire week. <3


	6. dandelion wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa and Iwaizumi wish on dandelions.

It’s Saturday afternoon when Iwaizumi finds Oikawa crouched near the sidewalk outside of Iwaizumi’s house, looking at something on the side of the road. His hair is ruffled in the wind, and his head rests on his knees.

“What are you doing here?” Iwaizumi asks, joining him on the sidewalk. He follows Oikawa’s gaze and looks at the white, puffy flowers growing from the ground. Their long stems sway in the breeze, and a few cloud-like wisps float off into the street.

“I thought I’d drop by and hang out with you now that it’s the weekend and we don’t have a game,” Oikawa replies, glancing at him.

“Okay, but what are you doing on the ground?”

“Just looking at the dandelions,” Oikawa reaches out to touch one, his movements careful so that the wisps don’t blow away. “Remember when we used to wish on these?”

“You mean when we blew them away to make our wishes come true?”

“Yeah, way back in elementary school.”

Iwaizumi leans back, resting on his palms. He’s looking at Oikawa, who’s staring wistfully at the dandelions. “No, I don’t really remember. Probably nothing important.”

Oikawa nods absentmindedly. “I used to wish for volleyball things all the time. Things like becoming the starting setter when we got to Kitagawa. Or being team captain eventually.”

“Well, I guess your wishes came true.” Iwaizumi moves to stand up, but Oikawa tugs him back to the ground. 

“Let’s make some more wishes now.”

A car drives by them, and Iwaizumi can feel his cheeks flush. “Aren’t we a little too old to be doing this?”

“No, we’re never too old for dandelion wishes!” Oikawa points to two flowers side by side, one slightly taller than the other. “Let’s wish on those.”

Iwaizumi sighs, but he leans toward the flowers until his face is side by side with Oikawa’s. “You ready?”

“Yep, on three?”

“One, two, three,” they blow on the two dandelions, watching the little wisps fly away until they seem to disappear in thin air. 

_ I wish I could stay with Oikawa like this forever. _

Iwaizumi feels an aching sense of nostalgia as he watches the dandelion seeds whirl around in the wind, spreading across his neighborhood. The suburbs are peaceful on the weekend, and he knows he’ll miss these simple times with Oikawa when they go to college. He gets up.

Oikawa laughs, brushing some wisps off his close and he stands. “I hope my wish comes true.”

“What was it? Still about volleyball?” Iwaizumi can’t help the curiosity and, embarrassingly, the hope that’s apparent in his voice. Oikawa notices it immediately and smiles, his eyes gleaming.

“No, more important than that.” Oikawa says, regarding him with a soft smile. “But I can’t tell you, or it won’t come true. And all of my dandelion wishes have come true so far.” 

Iwaizumi has a feeling that he knows what the wish is. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't remember the last time i made a wish by blowing on a dandelion, but that's okay. i'm in iwaizumi's shoes right now.
> 
> thank you for reading!!! kudos/comments are as nice as sunshowers to me.


	7. arguing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little angstier than usual! hope you enjoy :D

Iwaizumi doesn’t like to argue with Oikawa.

Most of the time, his arguments with Oikawa are more like banter. They usually exchange a few jabs with each other, then settle down. Oikawa likes to make fun of Iwaizumi being a rough monster with no taste or hygiene (not true, and Oikawa knows it), and Iwaizumi will respond with a scowl and a pointed insult of Oikawa having the trashiest personality he knows (slightly true, but Oikawa knows Iwaizumi still likes it). 

They don’t argue with dramatic, teary fights or slammed doors. Oikawa is a little petty sometimes, sure, and Iwaizumi can be too blunt, but neither of them are passive-aggressive. They don’t like when they don’t get along. Iwaizumi knows, after years and years of friendship, that this is true.

But he looks up and tears are collecting in Oikawa’s eyes and they’re threatening to spill over onto his quivering cheeks, and he doesn’t know what to do. They argued about something that hadn’t mattered that much to Iwaizumi, something about college and volleyball prospects, and it must have been a sore spot for Oikawa.

“I know that you worked hard in high school,” Oikawa says, smiling through his tears. “I know that better than anyone.”

“I didn’t mean to undermine anyone's hard work,” Iwaizumi starts, but Oikawa cuts him off with a shake of his head. Iwaizumi watches as a tear escapes Oikawa’s right eye. Oikawa brushes it away with his index finger.

“But y-you’re not going to play volleyball in college.” Oikawa is stuttering a little bit. Iwaizumi hasn’t heard the stutter since he and Oikawa were in elementary school and some kid on the playground bullied Oikawa for the way he spoke. Iwaizumi’s heart hurts. “You’re just going to quit completely.”

Iwaizumi takes a step forward and freezes when Oikawa takes a step back. “I won’t quit completely. Maybe I’ll play recreationally. You know, club volleyball?” he says, but the end of his sentence tilts up into a question, and the words sound hollow and fake even to him. He can tell by the way something sharp glints in Oikawa’s eyes that Oikawa senses it, too. “I won’t be on the varsity team, but that’s not important.”

“Not important?” The stutter is gone, and the respected and somewhat feared Captain Oikawa facade replaces it in a flash. “You were - you  _ are _ \- Seijoh’s ace. You’re our best.”

“No, I’m not. You know that.”

“Then what’s the ace even for?” Oikawa sounds a little bit like he’s pleading. Iwaizumi hates seeing him like this, but he presses on.

“You were the best. Not me. I’ll do what I want in college. And if that’s not volleyball, then so be it.”

Oikawa’s face crumples, and half of Iwaizumi badly wants to hug him while the other half is still furious that he’s trying to tell him how to live his life.

“But you’re happiest when you play volleyball,” Oikawa says. His voice is small. The captain persona is gone, and when Iwaizumi takes a step forward this time, Oikawa doesn’t retreat.

“No, that’s not exactly right. It looks like it, but I’m not happiest when I play volleyball.” Iwaizumi takes another step. “I’m happiest when you’re happiest.”

Oikawa is crying silently, ugly crying like he did when they were children. Iwaizumi can feel the tears leaking from his eyes, and he wipes them away with the back of his hand.

He’s only a few feet away from Oikawa. “You’re the one who’s happiest when playing volleyball. And I can be happy from the sidelines, too.”

“Who am I going to toss to when I - I don’t know what to do?”

“Your ace. He’ll be there, and it won’t be me, but that’s all right.” Iwaizumi smiles, trying to cheer him up, but his voice cracks when he talks and Oikawa’s expression falls a little further. “I’m still here, even if we’re not on the same court all the time. Okay?”

“Okay,” Oikawa whispers.

Iwaizumi hugs him. He knows it’s not okay, but it will be. And Oikawa knows it, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm feeling downright tempestuous and unnervingly similar to Iwaizumi at the moment. i could also go for a coconut popsicle, even though i'm a bit allergic to coconuts.
> 
> these updates are frequent, and i appreciate all of you very much. thank you for reading!


	8. the ace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi realizes that he's Seijoh's ace.

Hanamaki slams down the volleyball, just barely missing Iwaizumi’s block. Iwaizumi wipes his face with the green practice jersey as he watches Hanamaki and Oikawa high five.

“Only one more point for Oikawa and Makki, and the set’s over,” Matsukawa calls from the sidelines, adding a point on the scoreboard. Yahaba makes a face.

It’s late in the evening, and they’re in the Aobajohsai gym playing a two-on-two match. Each team consists of a setter and a wing spiker, so the match is Yahaba and Iwaizumi versus Oikawa and Hanamaki, with Matsukawa acting as the scorekeeper and referee. Hanamaki and Matsukawa had insisted on splitting up Oikawa and Iwaizumi for the two-on-two match, saying that it was unfair for the other team if they were together. Iwaizumi honestly couldn’t disagree; no duo at Seijoh came close to him and Oikawa in any of their practice matches.

So he’s with Yabaha instead. “We can still win this,” Iwaizumi says, looking at the scoreboard.

“Yep,” Yahaba agrees, but he looks grim as Oikawa spins the volleyball threateningly in his hands behind the net.

Their eyes stay trained on Oikawa, who tosses the ball up and executes a flawless jump serve. Yahaba receives the ball but falls back from the force, and Iwaizumi dives forward to get the ball across the net.

“Chance ball,” Oikawa calls to Hanamaki. “Let’s end this set here.” 

Iwaizumi gets up quickly, internally cursing the smugness in Oikawa’s voice. “Come on, we’re not done yet,” he tells Yahaba, who nods firmly as they steel themselves for Hanamaki’s spike.

The back and forth across the net continues, the longest rally in the game so far. Iwaizumi’s biceps and calves are on fire from exertion, and he knows from the expression on Yahaba’s face that Yahaba is feeling it, too.

“We can do this,” he reassures Yahaba.

Yahaba doesn’t have time to respond before he sets the ball. The trajectory, force, timing, everything is near perfect, and Iwaizumi can tell as he jumps up and his hand comes into contact with the ball that they’re going to score. The ball slams past Hanamaki’s outstretched fingertips and onto the floor.

“One point for Iwaizumi and Yahaba,” Matsukawa announces. “And by the way, that was a damn good spike. Match point now.”

Iwaizumi savors the stinging sensation on his palm almost as much as he enjoys the competitive glint in Oikawa’s eyes. He clenches his fist, smiling.

Behind him, Yahaba runs up and claps him on the shoulder. “Nice kill, ace.”

And Iwaizumi freezes.

“Hey, we do need to have a new ace since Tomioka graduated.” Hanamaki says from behind the net. “Makes sense for it to be our vice-captain, doesn’t it?”

“Me, the ace?” Iwaizumi asks blankly. 

It isn’t that he doesn’t want to be ace - he does, just as every wing spiker has - but there’s something holding him back. The ace is a position that he’d always aspired to have but never considered possible. Aces are a faraway dream that include Ushijima and Bokuto, not Iwaizumi.

Matsukawa nods beside the scoreboard. “Makki’s right. Seijoh wouldn’t be Seijoh without you. You’re the backbone of the team, man. You’re the most dependable guy here.”

“But I’m just me,” Iwaizumi says. He looks at his teammates, who are regarding him with various degrees of amusement and fondness. 

“Who else but you?” Oikawa’s smiling as he slings the volleyball to Iwaizumi from under the net. “When I’m in a pinch, who would I toss to? Of course you’re our ace.”

* * *

Iwaizumi and Yahaba win that set and the one after it. Every time he scores, they call him the ace. After that day, he starts to believe them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> less iwaoi interaction this time, but i promise there's more to come!
> 
> (yes, i called the last seijoh ace tomioka after tomioka giyuu from demon slayer. i may have a small crush on him at the moment.)
> 
> thank you for reading!!! kudos/comments are the best gift in the world.


	9. movie nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi and Oikawa have a tradition of movie nights.

It’s a Friday and both of them are at Oikawa’s for a movie night, not an unusual occurrence. They liked to go to his place after practice because he had a Netflix subscription (it was his summer fling’s ex-boyfriend’s cousin’s account, but he hadn’t been kicked off yet, so it counted) along with a far greater snack selection than what Iwaizumi’s pantry contained.

“Want some popcorn, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa calls from the kitchen. Iwaizumi is in his bedroom trying to select a movie to watch on his laptop, clicking with the trackpad.

“Sure,” he says. “Don’t burn it.”

“Who do you think I am?” Iwaizumi hears Oikawa retort. He recalls the times they’d been left with a smoking mess in the microwave after Oikawa’s previous attempts and scoffs.

About ten minutes later, Iwaizumi finds himself on Oikawa’s bed, eyes on the laptop screen. The room is dark, and the only light comes from the laptop and the glow-in-the-dark stars they’d stuck on Oikawa’s ceiling when they were children. Iwaizumi lets his eyes wander from the movie to the sticker stars to Oikawa's face, illuminated by the blue light of the laptop. Oikawa is transfixed by the movie; Iwaizumi is transfixed by him.

His back is against the wall, the way he’d told Oikawa many times that normal people sit on beds, and Oikawa is leaning on a mountain of pillows with his feet resting on Iwaizumi’s legs. Sometimes Iwaizumi’s feet start to go numb at the end of a long movie marathon, but he doesn’t mind the pins and needles as long as Oikawa is comfortable. So it's become their normal seating arrangement.

Oikawa keeps wiggling his toes through the thin material of his socks whenever something exciting happens, and even though it's distracting for Iwaizumi, he doesn’t comment on it. When a particularly gruesome scene comes up, Oikawa jumps a little in his seat. Iwaizumi wordlessly reaches out to hold his hand. They sit like that for the rest of the movie, hands a little sweaty and their calluses rough against each other's palms. Neither of them draw back.

As the credits roll across the screen, Oikawa is still sniffling and wiping the tears in his eyes.

“Here,” Iwaizumi says, leaning over to grab a tissue from the nightstand. He’s used to Oikawa crying during the movies, whether it’s a Disney animation or a sci-fi thriller.

Oikawa’s eyes start watering again, and he takes the tissue. “The dog’s death was the _worst_.” He lifts his foot up to poke Iwaizumi in the chest. “How come you’re not crying, you brute?”

Iwaizumi crosses his arms. “It's not real life. It's just a movie, and you're a crybaby.”

“I’m a deeply empathetic person,” Oikawa counters, dabbing gently at his eyes. 

“An oversensitive child, you mean.”

"Children are cute.”

“And immature.”

Oikawa bats his long, wet eyelashes. “Innocent?”

“Naive.”

"Charmingly so, though, right?"

"I take that back. They're just dumb."

It startles a laugh out of Oikawa, and Iwaizumi feels him relax. Their bodies don't fit together perfectly in the awkward position, but Iwaizumi doesn't mind the jut of Oikawa's hipbone or the weight of his calf. Oikawa tosses the tissue off the side of the bed, lips curled up into a familiar smile. “That’s just mean, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and moves to stand up, shifting Oikawa’s legs to the side. “I told my mom I’m sleeping over. Help me set up the futon, will you?”

Oikawa leans back, the back of one hand placed dramatically over his forehead. “Not until you apologize.”

“Fine, no futon. I guess I’ll take your bed, then,” Iwaizumi says, sitting back down on the duvet. 

Oikawa gives him a knowing look as Iwaizumi repositions himself and the pillows. Like most of their movie nights, it ends with them lying in bed, Oikawa’s head on Iwaizumi’s chest and the glow-in-the-dark stars shining above.

(When they kiss later, it tastes a little like salt from dried tears and popcorn butter.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm feeling nostalgic! (did you know that the word nostalgia originates from greek algos, meaning pain? i'm in love with greek and latin etymological roots, it's a bit ridiculous at this point.)
> 
> thank you for reading!!! <3


	10. tutoring hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa needs tutoring hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been thinking about how oikawa (like me) would be the kind of person to put off doing tutoring hours until the very end of the semester...
> 
> hope you enjoy!

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa practically sings his name, and everyone in the hallway stops.

Iwaizumi exhales forcefully before slamming his locker door closed and turning around. Oikawa’s standing before him, straightened up and on his tip toes so he can look taller and leer down at Iwaizumi. He’s wearing a shit-eating grin and a white-turquoise tracksuit. When Iwaizumi looks down at the crumpled notebook papers in his arms, he can see that the topmost sheet of paper has on it a cherry red lipstick mark and a phone number.

“What the fuck do you want?” Iwaizumi asks, and it comes out more like a growl than a question.

“Just talking to my lovely friend, that’s all,” Oikawa bares his white teeth in what Iwaizumi guesses is supposed to be a charming smile. “And maybe, just maybe, asking if you would please be my tutee.”

“Very funny, Trashykawa.”

“But I’m being serious, Iwa-chan! Would you like to have the honor of being tutored by me?”

“Hell no.”

“ _ Please _ . I need five tutoring hours by the end of the semester, or I’ll be put on probation for the honor society.”

“The semester ends next week, dumbass. Have fun getting what you deserve.” Iwaizumi turns to leave, but a light grasp on his shoulder stops him. 

Oikawa opens his mouth and closes it, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that… I need to tutor you for five hours within the next week.”

“It’s been an entire semester and you have  _ zero hours _ ?”

“I’ve been a little busy, okay?”

“I can’t believe I’m surprised at this point. What were you doing all semester?” Iwaizumi squints and moves closer to look at the paper. 

Oikawa’s breath hitches. “Um.”

Iwaizumi tries his best to read the messy handwriting upside down and keep the jealousy out of his voice. “Hanging out with Keiko? Which one is she?”

“The adorable senior of whom I’m very fond. You know, the one who baked me a three-tiered cake for Valentine’s Day.”

“Of fucking course,” Iwaizumi mutters.

“I’m doing Keiko-chan a favor by letting her tutor me,” Oikawa replies evenly, leaning closer. “A favor that you should consider doing for me.”

Iwaizumi stiffens. “Keiko’s wasting her time. You don’t need tutoring for any subjects.”

“Aw, Iwa-chan, I’m so glad you’re finally acknowledging my superior intellect! Now, let me tutor you.”

“I said I’m good, thanks.”

Oikawa keeps up with him as he tries to walk down the hall, long legs matching Iwaizumi’s pace. 

“Iwa-chan, come on,” he says.

Iwaizumi is sorely tempted to grab the binders from his arms and smack him in the face. “Ask Makki or Mattsun. They could probably use tutoring for the bio final.” 

“You could use it, too.”

“Go pester someone else. I’m sure there are plenty of people willing to act like you’re tutoring them.”

“But I want to tutor  _ you _ .”

Iwaizumi carefully controls his expression. He speeds up, and so does Oikawa, until they’re practically jogging through the halls. He’s trying hard to avoid Oikawa’s gaze and the glances of other students as they speed walk. “How about getting your precious Keiko-chan to be your tutee?”

“Keiko-chan doesn’t need tutoring. She’s too smart for that.”

“And I’m not,” Iwaizumi deadpans.

“Exactly! You get it!”

“Fuck you, Shittykawa.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“You just insulted my intelligence three times.”

Oikawa pauses, then smiles brightly. “I don’t hear a no, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi snatches up the paper Oikawa’s holding and crumples it up until he can’t see the lipstick stain or black ink scribble. “I’d rather sit through five hours of fake tutoring than hear you complain about getting probation in honor society.”

“I knew I could count on you!” Oikawa sneaks his hand beneath Iwaizumi’s upper arm, linking them together. “Let’s go get some hours covered, my young pupil.”

“Call me that again and I’ll throw you out the window.”

“My little grasshopper,” Oikawa coos, ruffling Iwaizumi’s hair and steering him in the direction of the library. 

“Get off me,” Iwaizumi grumbles, but he doesn’t shake him off.

Five hours and seven minutes later, they get kicked out of the library for disruptive and inappropriately affectionate behavior. Neither of them mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more to come...
> 
> thank you for reading!!!


	11. dauntless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> WARNING: minor character death!!!!
> 
> -
> 
> please don't read if you're not comfortable with it! 
> 
> i've got another chapter lined up that's fluffy and death-less which should be out soon, so stay tuned!

Iwaizumi is ten when he learns that Oikawa’s name matches his.

“He was born about a month after you were born, you know.” His mother is walking him to the bus stop for elementary school, her warm hand clasping his and a smile on her face. The sunshine paints the neighborhood in golden hues.

He nods. The birthdays of himself, his parents, and Oikawa are the only ones he knows.

“His mother already had in mind a couple of names, but she and I both thought it would be nice if you two had some link, just in your names.”

“Really?”

“Well, it wasn’t entirely intentional, but it worked out - she narrowed it down to Tooru partly because of the matching thing, anyway. And now you two are best friends, right?”

“Yeah, best friends,” he confirms.

“You’re Iwaizumi Hajime, and he’s Oikawa Tooru,” she tells him. The way she says their full names sounds powerful to him, like they’re superheroes revealing their true identities. He shivers and passes it off as the breeze. “When you put together the kanji - you know what kanji is, yes? - for Hajime and Tooru, you end up with the word for dauntless.”

_ Dauntless.  _ “But what’s it mean?” He asks. He likes the sound of the word, even if he doesn’t know the definition. From the way his mom says it, the word is strong and fierce and invincible. 

She laughs, patting him gently on the cheek with her free hand. It’s a little bit bonier than he remembers. “Why don’t you go find out at school today, sweetheart, and then tell me when you come home?”

When he steps off of the school bus in the afternoon, his mom is waiting for him with her arms open. “How was school, Hajime? Did you learn anything new?”

“I know what dauntless means,” he says, proud in the way that only children trying to impress adults can be.

“What does it mean?”

“Showing fearlessness or determination.” His voice is steady. He’d been practicing the words all day, hoping for her praise when he got home. “It means being brave.”

His mother ruffles his hair affectionately. “That’s right, Hajime. And where’d you learn that from? A dictionary? Your teacher?”

“Oikawa told me what it means.”

She’s startled into laughter, the amusement showing in the crow’s feet creasing by her eyes. The dark bags underneath them almost disappear. “Tooru is a very smart boy, isn’t he?”

“The smartest,” he replies, and there’s no envy or malice in his voice. Oikawa’s accomplishments are his accomplishments; they’re two parts of the same whole. “He’s at the top of our class, Mommy. But next year, I’ll beat him and be the smartest. You’ll see.”

The clouds shift a little, and the cerulean sky turns gray. His mother’s expression darkens with the clouds as she leans down to look at him in the eye. “Hajime, will you promise me that you’re going to try your best to be dauntless, no matter what happens?”

“I’m brave,” he insists, but he sounds immature saying it alone. He only feels dauntless when Oikawa is at his side, grinning and calling him Iwa-chan, poking fun at him and then actually poking him in the side.

The expression on his mother’s face softens. “I know you are.” She squeezes his hand three times, and he repeats the motion. 

* * *

A few months later, he kneels by a hospital bed in a sterile, white room. The only sounds he hears are the heart rate monitoring machine and the irregular sounds of sniffling coming from Oikawa, who’s standing next to him.

“Mommy,” he says, holding a pale hand that peeks out from the hospital gown. “It’s me, Hajime.”

She has the same smile she would flash at him every time they walked from home to the bus stop, and it makes his heart clench. “Sweetheart,” she says. Her voice is fragile and rough. “You know that Mommy’s not doing very well, right?”

He hears Oikawa inhale sharply, and his eyes are watering, and his mother suddenly seems very far away.

“Remember what dauntless means?” she whispers, taking his hand in hers.

He nods. He hasn’t forgotten since their conversation about it that sunny day by the bus stop. 

She squeezes his hand once, twice, three times, so weakly that he can barely feel it. “And remember that you’re not alone, Hajime. For you, that’s what being dauntless is.”

* * *

He stays in the hospital room until the nurses usher him out. When he lets himself cry later that night, Oikawa holds his hand. Every now and then, he squeezes it three times.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the word "dauntless" STILL reminds me of the faction from the divergent series. oh well.
> 
> i don't know what spurred me to write this, but i decided to share anyway. maybe i'm not one for happy fluff all the time, but i still have iwaoi feelings.
> 
> anyway, thank you so much for reading!!! <3


	12. fortune cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi doesn't believe in fortune cookies, but maybe he should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like oikawa is the type to unironically believe in things like fortunes and horoscopes while iwaizumi would be a skeptic. 
> 
> hope you enjoy!!!

Oikawa’s favorite place to eat is a small local Chinese restaurant, one that’s run by a family close to his own. They have an unspoken deal - the Golden Dragon’s owners give him discounts on dishes and extra bowls of egg drop soup, and Oikawa gives them plenty of business.

“Let’s go to the Golden Dragon after this,” Oikawa suggests, wiping his forehead with the hem of his shirt. “I could go for some Chinese food right now.”

They’re alone in the locker room, changing back into their school uniforms so they don’t have to go home in sweaty clothes. “Fine, but we’ll have to be quick,” Iwaizumi says. “I’ve got homework, and so do you.”

“Okay, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa turns around and strips off his shirt in one motion, the skin of his torso on display and the slim line down his back disappearing into white and turquoise shorts. As he shifts, the ridges of muscle flex.

Iwaizumi jerks his head in the other direction.

By the time they’ve arrived at the parking lot of the Golden Dragon, it’s late in the evening. Oikawa takes Iwaizumi’s hand and pulls him to the door.

A bell jingles above them to announce their entrance, and a waitress around their age with short hair stops to greet them. “Hey, Oikawa! Two people today?” 

“Yeah, just us two,” Oikawa says. “Thanks, Minako.”

Minako, the waiter, nods and gestures for them to follow her to the far corner that’s become their regular booth. She sets their menus down on the table.

“Two waters?” 

“Yes, thank you,” Iwaizumi says. Oikawa is already flipping through the menu.

“Aren’t we just getting our usual order?” After frequenting the restaurant with Oikawa so many times, Iwaizumi doesn’t open his menu. “You want something different this time?”

“Maybe I should try something new,” Oikawa says, finger running along the options on the menu. 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. He knows Oikawa’s habits too well. “You always say that, and then you never order anything different.”

Oikawa makes a face and shuts the menu. “Fine. Same thing as usual.”

After they’ve finished their food (Oikawa eats quickly and without manners; Iwaizumi eats slowly and finishes all the dishes), Minako comes with the check and two fortune cookies.

“There are more in the basket at the front table,” she tells Oikawa, pointing across the restaurant to a heaping pile of fortune cookies. “Feel free to grab a few on your way out.”

After they thank her, Oikawa carefully cracks open one of the fortune cookies. “I love fortune cookies. They’re always accurate, you know,” he says as he pulls out the paper inside.

“Not true.”

“Well, this one’s accurate.”

“What does it say?” Iwaizumi’s fortune cookie is already broken in the plastic package. He shakes out the contents onto a napkin.

“I have a distant admirer who will be known to me soon, apparently,” Oikawa’s grin is smug as he slides the slip of paper towards Iwaizumi. “Hm, I wonder if it’s Minako. She’s cute.”

“The waitress?” Iwaizumi glances over to see her cleaning a table. “Way too good for you.”

Oikawa childishly sticks out his tongue. “What does your fortune say, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi squints at the slip of paper, still dusted with crumbs from the crushed fortune cookie. “ An agreeable romance may stem from a close friendship in the near future.”

“An agreeable romance?” Oikawa snatches the paper out of his hand, reading it quickly. He looks up at Iwaizumi with an unreadable expression that quickly smooths out into an easy smile. “Who’s the close friend?”

“Whatever,” Iwaizumi says, trying not to think about Oikawa taking off his shirt in the locker room or dragging him into the restaurant by the hand or leaning over to wipe a grain of rice off Iwaizumi’s cheek. “It’s just a fortune cookie.”

* * *

A year later, Minako passes them their check and fortune cookies. They’re in their corner booth at the Golden Dragon, their stomachs full from wonton soup and mapo tofu and their hearts full from laughter and conversation.

“I love fortune cookies,” Oikawa says like he does every time they come. “Always accurate.”

“No one actually thinks they’re real. It’s just the Barnum effect or something.”

“You have to believe in the magic of fortune telling _ , _ Iwa-chan! Remember yours from last year?”

Iwaizumi sets down his chopsticks and picks up a fortune cookie. “The one about an agreeable romance?”

“From a friendship, yeah.” There’s a familiar emotion in Oikawa’s eyes as he looks at Iwaizumi, one of fondness and affection and love. “It turned out to be accurate, didn’t it?”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and turns away to hide the smile on his face. “Pure luck.”

Oikawa pretends to puzzle over his fortune, eyebrows furrowed as he pretends to scan the paper. “Hey, this one says that I’ll have a new boyfriend who believes in fortune cookies and doesn’t call me mean nicknames all the time. Wouldn’t that be nice, Iwa-chan?”

“You’re the  _ worst _ .”

“You love me, though!”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi’s face is a little red (he tells himself it’s from the spicy food they ate earlier, nothing more). “I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really like the fortunes in fortune cookies but not the actual cookies themselves. i actually used to keep one of the fortunes in the back of phone case as a sort of motivation - it was a nice sentiment.
> 
> lots of love and thank you for reading!!! kudos or feedback is much appreciated :D


	13. indirect kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi learns about indirect kisses, and he can't stop thinking about them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know what spurred this, but here we go.
> 
> obligatory caution: pretend we're not living with a contagious virus, and stay sanitary, everyone! avoid actually indirect-kissing in real life!

Oikawa likes soft drinks, fruit carbonated things like Sprite and Mountain Dew and even sparkling water. He’s the type of person to drink La Croix and other beverages that Hanamaki has dubbed “angry water,” the kind of person who enjoys the feeling of bubbles popping on his tongue and artificial flavoring. Iwaizumi can’t understand it.

Oikawa doesn’t like drinking water all too much; he usually sticks with Gatorade during practices. Iwaizumi, on the other hand, survives solely on water. 

“It’s free at restaurants,” he reasons. “And there’s no artificial crap in it, either.”

“It tastes like nothing,” Oikawa inevitably retorts.

“That’s what it’s supposed to taste like, idiot. Just drink your damn water, or you’re going to end up dehydrated and passed out in the middle of practice.”

“Sparkling water is water!”

“It’s not the same, though. And soda’s definitely not water.”

“Whatever,” Oikawa says, pretending to drop the subject in a way that Iwaizumi knows means he’s conceding the argument. “The only reason you don’t like them is because you haven’t tried them, Iwa-chan.”

“I don’t need to try it to know that I won’t like it.”

Oikawa shoves his drink at him, an aluminum can with a wash of lurid colors. It’s an off-brand sparkling water from the local grocery store. “Try it!”

“No, thanks.” Iwaizumi pushes the can away from him as gently as he can, resisting the urge to shove it back and spill it onto Oikawa.

“ _Try it_ ,” Oikawa sings, thrusting the drink forward once more with jarring speed. “You’ll like it. It’s good. I buy it for a reason, you know.”

“Only if you drink some water,”Iwaizumi says. He picks up the can reluctantly, turning it so he can see the nutritional facts. Usually, Oikawa’s the health and diet nut - not Iwaizumi - but Oikawa loses all reason when it comes to sodas, so it’s up to Iwaizumi to rein him in. 

He’s stalling so he doesn’t have to put his mouth on that fateful spot by the edge of the can - an indirect kiss - and so he doesn’t have to hand over his own bottle of water, which Oikawa will also put his lips on. Iwaizumi knows that he’s overthinking this whole indirect kiss thing. Since Hanamaki told him about it a few days ago, it’s all he’s been able to think about - indirect kisses with Oikawa, and then, just maybe direct kisses. Real kisses.

“No sugar!” Oikawa proclaims, pointing at the can. “Drink away, Iwa-chan.” He grabs the bottle of water from Iwaizumi’s hand.

“It’s all aspartame, Trashykawa,” Iwaizumi says, hoping the doubt in his voice overshadows the odd mix of hope and anxiety he feels. “Which is almost as bad.”

Oikawa makes a “psh” sound and takes a swig of water. When he finishes drinking, he wipes his glistening lips with the back of his hand. Iwaizumi is transfixed.

 _That’s an indirect kiss_ , the tween girl in Iwaizumi squeals. He silently curses himself and Hanamaki.

Iwaizumi drinks the sparkling water from the can and sputters. It’s gross.

“You drink this?” He asks, grimacing. “Willingly?”

“Iwa-chan has no taste,” Oikawa chides, shaking his head and exchanging their drinks once more. “Sparkling water is the drink of gods.”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure the drink of gods is nectar.”

“No, that’s wrong,” Oikawa says breezily. “It’s Gatorade and sparkling water.”

Iwaizumi makes a low sound of disagreement, but he’s still too dazed by the dumb indirect kisses to come up with a proper response.

“Two indirect kisses,” Oikawa remarks after a long period of silence, his tone of voice as casual as if they were talking about the weather. 

Iwaizumi almost drops his water. “What’d you say?”

“That’s two indirect kisses just now, making our total number six.”

“Hold on,” Iwaizumi says, “you _count_ them?” He looks down at his bottle and imagines Oikawa’s lips there just moments before. He needs to stop acting like a schoolgirl in a shoujo manga and get over himself.

“Since Hanamaki told me about them last week, yeah.” Oikawa’s looking away, but Iwaizumi can see the faint trace of a blush rising on his cheeks. “No big deal.”

“Right,” Iwaizumi forces himself to reply. “No big deal at all.”

A few years later, they’re at three hundred twenty-six indirect kisses. Oikawa keeps tally every time. 

“You know, we’re also at an indeterminable number of direct kisses,” he says, and Iwaizumi shuts him up with another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing these vignettes has been a good writing warm-up for me. i'm glad i can share it with some people, and i hope that they aren't totally out of character. a lot of the parts of their personality are my own additions (like oikawa being the type to drink la croix lmao).
> 
> i personally like sparkling water, but i feel like it's an acquired taste.
> 
> thank you for reading! kudos/feedback is much appreciated, and it makes my entire week!


	14. a work of art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa wants to go an art museum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based off of this ancient tumblr post: https://etherialism.tumblr.com/post/148433929575/cornputer-assindeto-take-me-to-art-museums
> 
> established relationship here, but still in high school. hope you enjoy!

“Let’s go to the art museum, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi looks up from his homework, eyebrows furrowed, and spins his pen around twice in his hand. “The what?”

“The art museum, you philistine.” Oikawa nabs the pen out of Iwaizumi’s hand. He clicks it shut and picks up his pencil case before Iwaizumi can think of a response. “They have a special gallery on ancient Greek and Roman sculptures! Isn’t that great?”

“Since when did you care about sculptures?” Iwaizumi says, trying in vain to read his homework assignment as Oikawa frantically tugs at the corner of the paper.

“Okay, maybe I’m not the biggest sculpture fanatic,” Oikawa says, “but I-”

“Why not go to the planetarium or something again? Why the hell would we go to the _art_ museum?”

Oikawa stops, one hand still holding Iwaizumi’s pencil case above his head. “Because I said I want to?”

“Great. Go alone.”

“Well, I wanted my boyfriend to come with me,” Oikawa sighs dramatically. “But if he’s going to be a stubborn blockhead about it, I guess I could go ask Meiko-chan… or Reiko-chan… or Keiko-chan…”

“Don’t just make up names for the girls you’ve forgotten, Shittykawa.”

“Or Matsu-chan… or Hana-chan…” 

Iwaizumi rubs his temples, trying to use his hands to cover up the smile on his face. “I know you’re talking about Matsukawa and Hanamaki, you idiot. You’re not fooling anyone.”

“ _Someone_ has to go with me since my boyfriend prioritizes schoolwork over me.”

“Go ask Ushijima if you’re so desperate.”

“Iwa-chan is heartless _!_ ” Oikawa gasps, setting down the pencil case and balking in mock horror. “You’ve just wounded me seriously, you know.”

Iwaizumi relishes the look on his boyfriend’s face. “Really? Good.”

“To make up for that cruel and unusual offense,” Oikawa says, bending down and looking gravely into Iwaizumi’s eyes, “come to the museum with me.”

“Hell no.”

“We can admire the marble muscles of dead discus throwers together. The masterpieces molded from the hands of Polykleitos and Myron. We can feel the cold, marmoreal beauty up close. It’ll be fun!”

“Holy shit, you _do_ know something about sculptures.”

“And you had the audacity to doubt me,” Oikawa says with a swish of his hair.

“But we’re not supposed to touch the sculptures at all.”

“Whatever, Iwa-chan. Let’s go!”

“It still sounds like an awful way to spend my Saturday.”

“I’ll kiss you behind _Discobolus_. We’ll evade security.”

For a second, Iwaizumi _almost,_ maybe considers it before he scoffs. “And get kicked out? Not worth it.”

“Iwa-chan, please? All I want is for you to take me to the museum and make out with me.”

Before Iwaizumi can stop himself, he blurts, “But they said not to touch the art.”

There’s a long pause.

To his utter surprise, Oikawa flushes an interesting shade of pink. It spreads from his neck, rising until his ears are dusted with a rosy blush. Iwaizumi, needless to say, is speechless at the sight. 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa hisses as Iwaizumi gapes at him, “you can’t just _say_ stuff like that with a straight face.”

“Are you blushing right now?” Iwaizumi asks once his mouth and brain start working again. “Whoa. Okay. Wow. Can I take a picture?”

“NO! I look like a fire hydrant! No pictures!”

“You look like a work of art, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says cheekily, enjoying the way Oikawa is fuming. “I don’t need a museum, I could just look at you all day.”

If possible, Oikawa turns an even brighter shade of red. 

(They don’t make it to the museum that day, but they do make out.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while since i posted one of these... it's not hard to tell, but i studied classical art a while ago and i’m projecting now. i only wish i could go to a museum in person, but that's definitely out of the question right now. :(
> 
> thanks for reading!!! feedback is much appreciated :D


	15. have you ever been in love?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa asks Iwaizumi if he's ever been in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand we're back to shorter drabbles. this one's SUPER sappy and self-indulgent!!!!! you’ve been warned!
> 
> chapter title comes from the song by The Ivy. :)

“Hey, Iwa-chan?”

They’re sitting next to each other on the swings at the local park. When Oikawa shifts back and forth, the sound of rusty metal fills the clearing as the chains on the swing groan.

A gentle breeze whistles through the trees around them, enough to make Iwaizumi shiver in his thin volleyball club jacket. He looks up from the black playground mulch to the stars above them. 

“What?”

Oikawa’s voice is soft, tremulous. “Have you ever been in love?”

Iwaizumi’s hand jolts on the chain. He blinks.

“Ah, it’s a dumb question,” Oikawa says, laughing as he reaches up to scratch the back of his head. It’s a characteristic gesture from him, one that tells Iwaizumi he’s said something that he wants to take back. “Never mind.”

“Let me think about it,” Iwaizumi hears himself say hastily. He keeps his eyes on the faint, dark boundary where the sakura blossoms fade into the night sky. 

Oikawa looks over at him, surprised but silent.

Iwaizumi thinks about Oikawa tossing endless volleyballs to him, pestering him with childish nicknames, bickering with him at afternoon practices. Oikawa “borrowing” his number 2 pencils before every big exam and never returning them. Oikawa grinning as he pelts Iwaizumi snowballs with unerring accuracy. Oikawa stealing bites of his food at every meal.

And he thinks about Oikawa’s ears turning cherry red, Oikawa’s lips quirking up into a smirk, Oikawa’s eyelashes fluttering as he naps on car rides, Oikawa’s eyes the moment before he tosses, Oikawa’s hair tickling Iwaizumi’s shoulder, Oikawa’s hands when he’s spinning the volleyball in his pre-serve ritual, Oikawa’s eyebrows furrowed when he watches other teams playing.

Oikawa, Oikawa, Oikawa.

Iwaizumi likes all of it - the insufferable personality traits, the parts that Oikawa keeps hidden from everyone else, the invincible and the vulnerable Oikawa Tooru. He likes the Grand King persona that rules the court and he likes the exhausted setter who’s not a genius. He’s happy when Oikawa’s smiling, sad when Oikawa’s frowning, emotions that aren’t even under his control anymore.

Is this what love is?

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks, prodding him in the side. “You there?”

Iwaizumi tries to speak, but his voice comes out rough and hoarse. He clears his throat. “I’ve been in love before.”

“Before?”

He looks at Oikawa, taking in the dimple and the forehead wrinkle and the uneven eyelids and the scar on his chin. The thin upper lip, shining dark eyes. The same face he’s looked to all these years, the person he’ll look to for even more years to come. 

“Not just before,” he says. “I’m still in love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~~bonus~~~
> 
> Oikawa’s eyes visibly widen. 
> 
> Iwaizumi doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath.
> 
> “Who is it, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa is holding his gaze, and there’s something in his expression that gives Iwaizumi hope. “The one you’re in love with.”
> 
> “Isn’t it obvious, Oikawa? It’s you.”
> 
> \--
> 
> fun drinking idea: take a shot every time the word “oikawa” comes up.
> 
> thanks so much for reading!!! x


	16. the little tykes volleyball classroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Tuesdays and Thursdays, Oikawa volunteers at the Little Tykes Volleyball Classroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was reading oikawa’s haikyuu wiki page, which says that “in his free time, he coaches his nephew and other children at Little Tykes Volleyball Classroom,” and i wanted to write about it because i thought it was a funny name. 
> 
> hope you enjoy!

When afternoon practices end on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Oikawa volunteers at the Little Tykes Volleyball Classroom. The building is about halfway from Seijoh to Iwaizumi’s house, so Iwaizumi usually walks with Oikawa while on his way home, fifteen minutes of time spent with just the two of them.

It’s a Thursday afternoon that day, and Oikawa beckons Iwaizumi to come in with him. 

“The Little Tykes Volleyball Classroom awaits you.” Oikawa gives him a mock bow. He’s somehow maintaining a completely straight face. 

“Too bad,” Iwaizumi says. “I’m going home.”

“But then you’ll be missing out on the Little Tykes Volleyball Classroom!”

“I really don’t think I’m missing out on much.”

“You’ll never know until you experience the Little Tykes Volleyball Classroom. It’s life-changing, Iwa-chan, life-changing.”

“Is it really necessary to say the entire name every time?”

Oikawa pauses. “Yes.”

“Well, we’ve got a big test tomorrow,” Iwaizumi protests weakly. “I should go home and study. You should, too, actually.”

“Just for a minute or two, Iwa-chan! Just to say hi to the kids.”

Iwaizumi grimaces. 

“Please?”

“I don’t like kids very much.”

“But they like you.” Oikawa tugs at Iwaizumi’s arm. “I guess they like me more, though.”

“Well, you’re still a kid, so that makes sense.”

Oikawa huffs and pulls him through the doorway.

The gym is smaller than what Iwaizumi is used to, with just one small court, a shorter volleyball net, and a low ceiling. A few other high school student volunteers are running around the gym and corralling the children. Volleyballs fly everywhere. In the corner, a child is unsuccessfully trying to set the ball. He hits another kid directly in the face. Throughout the gym, there’s whistling and yelling and the occasional crying.

In short, the Little Tykes Volleyball Classroom is chaos. And for some reason unfathomable to Iwaizumi, Oikawa loves it.

Takeru, Oikawa’s nephew, runs up to them as they close the door behind them. “Tooru!” he says.

Oikawa leans down to muss Takeru’s hair, grinning as Takeru wriggles. “Takeru, say hi to Iwa-chan,” he says.

Takeru bats at his uncle’s hand until Oikawa sheepishly takes it off of his head. He waves shyly. “Hi, Iwaizumi-san. It’s nice to see you again.”

Iwaizumi smiles at the formality. “Hey, Takeru. How’s your practice going so far?”

Takeru looks around the gym, surveying the madness around them, and Iwaizumi narrowly dodges a stray volleyball. “Uh… pretty normal.”

“Hey, Oikawa!” The head coach jogs over, out of breath. “Glad you could make it today. We’re short on one of our volunteers - you know, that wing spiker who usually shows up on Thursdays - so I was wondering if you could demonstrate a spike for us.”

Oikawa’s lips curl up into a smile, and Iwaizumi can already tell he’s planning something. “I couldn’t possibly be the one to demonstrate it when we have an excellent wing spiker here already.” 

Iwaizumi laughs awkwardly when the coach turns to him. “Oh, uh, I’m-”

“Great! Your name is… ah… Iwa, is it?”

“Iwaizumi,” he says. After a moment’s hesitation, he internally curses Oikawa and sticks his hand out for a handshake. “I’m a third year at Aoba Johsai with Oikawa.”

“The ace,” Oikawa declares.

“Oh, so you must be pretty good!” Before Iwaizumi can respond, the coach pats Oikawa on the shoulder. “Can you toss for him? If we do it now, it’ll get the kids’ attention.”

“Of course,” Oikawa says, already shrugging off his bag. He rolls up the sleeves of his Aoba Johsai Volleyball Club jacket and walks towards the center court. Iwaizumi reluctantly follows his lead.

The coach whistles, an ear-splitting sound that manages to get the attention of about half of the children. “Listen up! Oikawa and Iwaizumi here are going to give us a demonstration of a spike! Pay attention to the timing of the spike and keep your mouths shut, okay? After this, we’ll run through some spiking drills.”

“ _ That’s  _ the Iwa-chan Oikawa always talks about?” Iwaizumi hears one of the kids say. “I thought aces were supposed to be tall.”

Iwaizumi grinds his teeth, resisting the urge to point out that the kid was about two feet shorter than him. “Let’s get this over with,” he mutters to Oikawa.

“What kind of toss do you want?” Oikawa catches a volleyball that another volunteer throws to him and slams it on the floor a few times. The loud smack of the volleyball on his hand makes the children fall quiet for the first time that day.

“Toss A,” Iwaizumi says. “A little higher than normal, maybe.”

Oikawa nods, tossing the ball back to the volunteer and signaling for her to toss it to him. “Got it, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi gets into position. When Oikawa sets the ball, Iwaizumi has already launched himself off of the ground and into the air, feeling the eyes of the children watching him in awe. His hand hits the ball perfectly - a hit that would obliterate most of the prefecture’s blockers - and it slams down on the other side of the court.  There’s so much force in the spike that when the volleyball bounces off of the floor, it almost hits the low ceiling of the gym. Iwaizumi lands on his feet with a huff, and Oikawa fist bumps him. 

The kids erupt into cheers.

“That was  _ so  _ cool!”

“I wanna be a wing spiker!”

“ _Whoa_!”

The jump and spike hadn’t been very taxing, but Iwaizumi finds himself breathing hard. He looks at the redness on the palm of his right hand and relishes the sting.

“Iwa-chan’s a show-off.” Oikawa grins crookedly at Iwaizumi. “So, do you still want to go home and study?”

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi says instinctively, his ears turning red as the children get increasingly loud.

They’re chanting something over and over again. “Do it again! Do it again! Do it again!”

Iwaizumi spots Takeru in the corner. The kid’s mouth is hanging open as he gapes at him and Oikawa, and he can practically see the stars in Takeru’s eyes. 

“Just give me another toss, Shittykawa.”

“As you wish, Iwa-chan!”

* * *

Later that evening, as Iwaizumi takes a detour and walks him home, Oikawa prods at his arm. “Now you can tell why I like it at the Little Tykes Volleyball Classroom, right? Right?”

“Whatever,” he says.

“You like it there, Iwa-chan! I was right!”

And as much as Iwaizumi denies it to Oikawa, soon enough it becomes obvious to everyone else when the two return to that small gym every Tuesday and Thursday, ace and wing spiker, bickering and high-fiving and exulting in volleyball.

(To Oikawa's dismay, Takeru later plays for Kitagawa Daiichi as a wing spiker, not a setter. Iwaizumi pretends not to be pleased.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while since i posted, but i'm working on more fics! enjoy this plotless mess while i continue to (fruitlessly) slave away at my laptop. 
> 
> oikawa being an uncle is an appealing idea but an even better one is iwaizumi and oikawa being uncles together! i bet they'd be part of the aoba johsai neighborhood association, just like ukai's old friends from school helped out with yamaguchi and cheered for karasuno. 
> 
> anyway, thank you so much for reading! xx


	17. love languages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa wants to know his and Iwaizumi's love languages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> much, much thanks to rainbowrider1290 for all the kind words. you've inspired me to write another one of these, so this one's dedicated to you!
> 
> hope you enjoy!

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa choruses, pushing his phone over to Iwaizumi. “Look at what Reiko sent me! It’s a love language quiz.”

“What, she wants you to take it?”

“She said the fanclub wants to know my love language.” Oikawa flashes him a smile. “Apparently, it helps people in relationships to know what each other’s love language is so they can show their love more effectively.”

Iwaizumi looks down at the picture of a smiling couple lighting up Oikawa's phone screen.  _ Discover the secret that has helped millions of people strengthen and improve their relationships _ , the website says. He frowns. “You’re not dating anyone in your fanclub, are you?”

“No, but they want to know anyway. And I want to know yours.”

“What are the love languages again? French? Spanish?”

Oikawa laughs, and the sound makes Iwaizumi’s heart beat a little faster. “Those are the Romance languages, Iwa-chan. Love languages aren’t real languages, just expressions of love.” He picks up his phone, tapping rapidly. “I’ll send you the link, okay? Let’s take it together.”

"Words of affirmation, acts of service, receiving gifts, quality time, and physical touch." Iwaizumi's eyes narrow. "These sound random as hell."

"They're not arbitrary, okay? Reiko said they're science. You can't not trust science, Iwa-chan."

"I don't trust this quiz," Iwaizumi says. "And the quiz is definitely not scientific. I'm only taking it because you're asking me to."

Oikawa laughs. "Fine, fine. Just let me know which one you get."

They take the quiz in relative silence, with Oikawa occasionally making offhand remarks about how much he would love a back rub from Iwaizumi, just like the quiz question mentions. (Iwaizumi hits him in the small of his back and ignores his squeal of pain.)

“I got my results!” Oikawa waves his phone in the air.

“Hold on a second. I’m almost done.”

“Mine’s quality time, but words of affirmation are a close second,” Oikawa says. “So I like to spend time with the people I love, I guess, and tell them how amazing they are. And I like when people do the same to me.”

Iwaizumi nods. “Makes sense. Your fanclub tries to do enough of that for you.”

“I don’t  _ love _ my fanclub, though.” Oikawa’s eyes are intent and serious when he looks at Iwaizumi, but he turns his head away before Iwaizumi can figure out what his expression means.

“I just have to spend time with you and tell you how great you are, right?” Iwaizumi leans back, stretching his arms above his head. “I mean, I do that already.”

“True,” Oikawa says. “I guess these quizzes are accurate, then.” 

There’s an uncomfortably long silence as they consider the implications of the love language quiz being accurate, implications that Iwaizumi tries not to read too far into. He can tell by the tilt of Oikawa’s head that he’s thinking about it, too.

He clears his throat before reading out his results. “I got acts of service.”

“Acts of service? What’s that about?”

“It says things like being helped out, having someone take some responsibility off of you… you know, doing chores or making dinner or something like that.”

Oikawa shifts over to see the phone screen. When he looks up at Iwaizumi, they’re so close that Iwaizumi can see his own expression, his parted lips and raised eyebrows, in the reflection of Oikawa’s eyes.

Instead of moving back, Oikawa only smirks, the corner of lip quirking up into a lazy grin. “If you wanted me in a maid costume, Iwa-chan, you could’ve just said so.”

Iwa-chan does the normal -- he turns off his phone, hits him in the arm this time, says something about how shitty Oikawa is -- but he’s trying to hide the red flush that has risen on his face. He hopes Oikawa doesn’t notice, but Oikawa’s blushing, too, and both of them are reduced to stuttering messes with too much in their heads.

Later that day, Oikawa volunteers to clean the gym after practice with Iwaizumi. They’re doing a strange back-and-forth conversation of compliments, and Iwaizumi lingers at Oikawa’s doorstep after the sun has set, and both of them can hear the “ _ you love me”  _ and “ _ I love you _ ” that went unspoken before.

(Just before graduation, Oikawa dubs Reiko fanclub president for reasons inexplicable to the rest of the student body. When asked why, he usually just grins at Iwaizumi, earning himself a flick to the back and a handful of words whispered into his ear.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since A World Alone ended, i've felt aimless (hence me posting this even though it's 2 a.m. where i live, and i don't feel very tired). i hope you liked this tiny drabble while i try to get back on track with more fics. 
> 
> my love languages are acts of service and words of affirmation (almost equally)! i think all of them are nice to experience, though. i wonder what others' love languages are.
> 
> thank you for reading!!! kudos/comments are my sixth love language <3


End file.
